Supposed To Be There
by TwilightSnowStar
Summary: Sequel to Supposed to be Gone Edward is blissful, Bella isn't dead and she's with him. But what do you do when the person who was supposed to be there is gone again?
1. Chapter 1

**_Yes, I'm finally putting up the sequel! It will take a while for me to update, but it's still up and you know I haven't forgotten it._**

**_Disclaimer:I don't own Twilight._**

**_Since it's been a long time, try reading Supposed To Be Gone through a bit to refresh your memory._**

**_I hope it's good, I hope I haven't forgotten how to write this story!_**

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BPOV

It was dark, oh so very dark. I couldn't even imagine what I had just done. I had run from my love and my life. Ironic almost, I was saving him, yet to save him I would simply die myself. All those memories that I had pushed back when I was changed, all those feelings that I had made myself try to cope with, the pain had been unimaginable, but I had made it, and time had even helped my wounds a bit, not much, but I could live with it. If Riley ever knew about Edward, bad things would happen, very bad things. Edward would be destroyed and I would be even more of a prisoner.

But he had to come back to my life, I bitterly thought as I ran through the dark forest at an inhuman speed. I was running from him, from them, and everything else that had made my life worthwhile. My mind tried to come up with excuses as to why I should go back right now, apologize with all my heart, and kiss him properly. But an even bigger part of me tried to make that other see reason, Edward and everyone else would be killed. The Lunanes barely tolerated animal drinkers, they thought of them even less than the ground they walked on, and provided this excuse of my past with the Cullens, well, it would all be my fault.

Edward would follow me, I knew it. That's why I had to be fast, more than fast, I had to be like lightening. Somehow, I wasn't sure how just yet, I would fix this, even if I destroyed myself from the inside out in the process.

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EPOV

I was still standing there shocked as I struggled to remember that kiss, that one kiss that had somehow made me feel as if I had gone back in time, to a time when I could kiss her, carefully, but I still could nevertheless. I would leave her alone now; she seemed to need the time alone. I would see her in school tomorrow, and then nothing could take her away from me again, I'd make sure of that. Riley must watch his back, no matter what Bella said, he was killing her, and he had to pay, that and for taking her away from me in the first place.

I ran through the trees that now seemed to look actually cheerful, and back to our new house which was conveniently nearby.

Plans were forming in my head as I sent through the door.

I would need help, Jasper and Emmett could do that for me and deal with the large vampire, and Rosalie and Alice could help with the two females, Alexa, I remembered.

But Riley would be mine, he would pay, and he would pay dearly for what he did to my Bella and me.

She had said that he was powerful; she didn't think I could do it. I was engulfed by sorrow at the idea that she didn't think I could protect her. But then again, she had every right to think that. I had let her get taken away in the first place. But I would make it up to her, I would, she just had to give me a chance.

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BPOV

I walked into the doorway to the building that my captors called home, for the moment at least, and I would exploit that weakness of human drinkers.

I put on a practiced face of dismay and shame, and suddenly all those years with them as a prisoner suddenly paid off as I looked into a mirror nearby and saw the most sincere look that I had ever faked. I idly wondered if it really was such a good thing that I had become such a good liar.

I walked into the upstairs, the study that Riley called his own, where I could tell him about the mistake I made. But before I could reach it I came in contact with Morgan. Beautiful Morgan who looked like the purest angel from the heavens and whoever came up with that expression had certainly never seen Morgan. She didn't look like an angel at all, more like a ghost. She was beautiful of course, but her white blonde hair straggled down her back and made her look like she was drowning. Her white skin and her purple eyes almost glowed, making her look ethereal. Maybe she wouldn't seem so…haunting if she had an expression on her face, but she never seemed to be feeling anything. She would just stare at you with these dark, blank-looking eyes. She never yelled, never sobbed without tears, and never smiled. She just stared, waiting for the person that was in front of her to move.

I moved to the side of the stairs, letting her pass while trying to suppress a shiver, sometimes Morgan could really get a hold on people, myself included.

When she passed, I moved away from the protection of my wall and started up the stairs again. I reached the top and started walking towards the evil-looking wooden door to Riley's sanctuary. The mahogany door looked forbidding and imposing, not just the dark of the door itself, but also the carvings that seemed to magically appear one night, but it was really Riley who had carved them, we all knew it. The rose's stems covered with thorns wound up the tall expanse of the door, waiting to get to the top where the blossoms bloomed. In itself it would be an interesting picture, but there was still yet more. There were figures, bloody and torn-looking from battle, walking through the thorns and seeming to get trapped in the sharp things. I could see one whose mouth was open, looking to scream in pain. The carving was just too realistic as I saw what looked like blood seeming to soak a dead man's shirt.

I closed my eyes from the horrible picture, grasped the brass door knob and thrust the door open.

I opened my eyes to see an amused Riley staring at me. Of course. He had heard me coming; no one could sneak up on him, another reason why I had to sign my own death warrant.

"Bella? What is it?" His honey smooth voice drifted over me, caressing and crawling over me, engulfing me in its too-sweet tones. Edward's voice wasn't like that…

I let my eyes look mournful, sad and shamed, like a dog rebuked. "Riley," I let my voice whisper a bit; "I was caught. They saw me, I'm so sorry but there were too many of them for me to kill all of them. They saw me kill him. They will find me! I am so sorry I let any of this happen. I feel awful-" And I stopped there, maybe I was laying it on a bit too thick.

But Riley didn't seem to notice. After my first sentence his eyes started widening. He believed me, and my heart plunged, we would leave soon.

But his shocked look stopped and the cocky grin I was so used to, "We've been here too long anyway. We've all done it, don't worry. We can move soon and in two weeks everything will be alright." I knew what he was referring to, the upcoming wedding. I was ready to destroy myself before that happened though, or at least, I wanted to, but I knew I couldn't for the sakes of the people that I loved.

Right now Riley had almost all of me. But he didn't have two very important things, my body and my will. He would never have my will, but it seemed that very soon he would have my body, and the thought disgusted me.

The devil himself was still speaking, "-maybe England would be nice? It's cloudy at least. I'll decide later; tell Shaun to come up, I must speak with him. Now," he smirked at me with his disgusting burgundy eyes gleaming, "-run along and play nicely." I could have sworn that that was a threat. I had heard the malicious undertone. My mind froze as I mechanically walked through the dark doorway.

He knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Twilight and all related properties and trademarks are not mine, but they are Stephenie Meyer's._**

**_This isn't Bella or Edward's POV._**

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I loved him. The day he took my life and being away was the day that I first lived. I now know the reason that my life had been so meaningless before, the simple repetition of days; it was because I had never known the dark. So caught up was I in doing what was thought to be good for me. I had done my duty all my life; I had been the quiet and obedient little girl, the one who didn't make a sound unless my superiors bid me to. I was good, a being of light. Sometimes an unknown thought seemed to escalate, chanting and screaming in strange words that I didn't recall, and this feeling inside me that I didn't recognize simply grew. I was not miserable. I didn't know anything but this life of docility and obedience.

But that was before I met _him._

I remember, being so cold that one winter day. I was walking around in the forest, my forest, because my mother wanted me to gather something, I don't remember what; all traces of my former life are a blur, except this one moment in time, my last apparently.

It was cold, I remember that. The snow was a blanket that seemed to be warming the earth with its white softness. More snow was falling in white swirls and bursts. I had worn a white shawl, a testimony to my own blandness. But this white didn't feel so plain, it felt as if it held all the colors known and unknown, mixed and matched together until the blend had given birth to a seamless new color. It was in that clearing on that fine winter's day that I had felt an instance of impulse. That word seemed to hold back a world, bright and beautiful and locked to me. I wanted to experience that impulsiveness for myself. And so I did. For the first time, I laughed at the snow and the drifts piling around me. I skipped and danced and jumped and sang. The exertion was pumping blood through my cheeks, making them rosy, and warming me. I could feel the vivacity of life renewing and cheering me more than I had felt in a long time.

It was then that I heard the snap of a branch, and my revelry suddenly halted. My senses came back to me, I regained control of my limbs, and I became as alert as the doe who knew that a predator approached. I remembered where I was, and that I was alone.

But then _he _stepped out of the protection the great trees offered, and all my inhibitions simply melted away, better than when I was making a ruckus in the snowy clearing.

He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. This unknown man with his skin the color of the snow, and his hair blacker than a raven's wing. His face was something that one didn't expect in the Colonies, but in the royal palaces of Europe. His was the face of Prince Charming in _Cindrillion_, the kind of look and air of a prince of the highest standing. This prince was staring at me, and I stared right back into his purple eyes. I had known even before then that he wasn't meant to be here. The strange purple simply reinforced my view.

He walked, with the grace of a thousand winds and the elegance of a swan. His entire being seemed to fill the white clearing with something I can only call _soleil noir, _all around him the once blissful sanctuary was filled with the lurid black and the cold blaze that seemed to seep through the corners of his very soul.

His eyes held mine, my breathing and the instinct to run were silenced, none of it was of my own volition, it was all his; I was a puppet, willingly submitting to my master's strings.

And he smiled at me. If I had any freewill left inside of my body, it would have disappeared at that smile. It taunted me, this smile; everything about it was forbidden and wrong and beautiful and so very perfect. That entire smile was so very wonderful that I didn't even notice what had started to creep into view between his pale lips. I was so fixed at staring at that beautiful smile that the perfect ivory teeth escaped my notice.

Slowly, It approached—so much more than a he, so much less than a human, and yet so much more, I deferred to him as an it—, and I was helpless but to stare at my idol. Few seconds had passed and yet this strange It had broken and demolished every conviction, every past moral and ideal that had been so diligently instilled into me.

The air around me was still freezing, so very intense and cold, and I was numb to it all, unfeeling and unmoving to everything except that terrifying and thrilling smile. The blood that had invigorated me seconds ago was gushing even more furiously through my face and body; I must have burned brighter than any candle flame against the snow.

It stared, almost hungrily, and it was when our eyes had been locked for almost an entire minute out in the wind and the weather and the wood that it finally pronounced one word. One devastating word with a strange lilting accent, said beautifully and calmly, almost lovingly. This one word seemed to break the spell that surrounded me and only strengthened It's hold on me. It spoke just this one word, the lips moving so pleasantly, "Run."

As I was no longer a creature who could think for itself—no longer after meeting this thing; I was happily imprisoned in my own body—, I did as It bid me. I ran, over the bumpy terrain, over logs and branches, and still it wasn't enough. The thing simply ran after me in a whirling dervish that seemed more than an It and less of a He. It reminded me of those storms, the ones during mid-winter, when the snows and winds are more than any human can handle. Its pale skin rushing through the air towards me, my thoughts once more coming upon that image. That one thought seems to be the very clearest in my memory of my human years.

It had seemed hours, days, years, and yet what was really only a few seconds ended abruptly when I felt my body topple to the ground. The Thing had lunged at me, firmly grasping me in its icy hold that didn't seem at all different from the snows.

And there was a pain. It was such a terrible burning and freezing that originated at my neck. My mind came up out of the emotional sleep it had been trapped, and for the first time I felt the slightest twinge of horror when I actually realized that this prince, this beautiful It, was sucking my blood, this fairy tale hero was a murderer.

But my apprehension lasted for less than a second; such was my devotion to this terrible thing. I realized that there wasn't anything left to back to in my old life, and since surely we must all die, what better way than to die at the hands of such an incredible ephemeral creature in a snow-filled glade. It seemed something out of _Le Mort d'Arthur_. I was not afraid to die now.

But, there must've been something, my ceasing struggle, my resigned look, that alerted my murderer. He stopped his motions and stared at me, as I looked back into his purple eyes. It is true what they say of how the eyes are the windows to the soul, and Its soul was indeed striking in a forbidden way. It seemed malformed and twisted so much so that it had reached into the realm of the ugly so far down until it was beautiful in its hideousness.

Perhaps this thing was doing the same to me, I don't know, but after the space of seconds—an eternity—he rose off his knees and picked me up as well. By this time, the wound in my neck had risen to such a terrible degree that the only thing that prevented me from crying out from the pain was staring into its eyes.

It chuckled, "You'll do very nicely."

Those words slammed the door and left me so willingly ensnared in the dark. And I have never regretted it.


End file.
